


In sickness and in health

by Ghost_Writer



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Writer/pseuds/Ghost_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days into their honeymoon, Ryan gets the flu and Michael takes care of him even though Ryan doesn't want him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In sickness and in health

Ryan shifts his weight onto his side. His head throbbing and his mouth dry like sandpaper. The room spinning because waking in fever was always something that made for delirium. Ryan tries to focus on a spot on the wall to make the spinning stop, without much success. Cheeks hot against a warm pillow, his legs wrapped around the side of duvet, wet with sweat. Body covered over and over, layer by layer, to make the sweat come to his skin. Throat wrapped tightly with a black scarf, to keep the heat in. What he would trade to be lying on the beach with Michael, his husband.

He groans, this was not how he imagined he would spend his honeymoon. The bed is empty and he can hear noise coming from the kitchen. Overhead, the gentle whiz of the ceiling fan circulating air. He lifts his head to see what time it is, he struggles to read the blurring, dizzy numbers that are lit red upon his clock. Only by closing one eye and moving his head further from the pillow is he able to discern it is sometime in the late afternoon. 

Light is coming in through the semi-translucent curtains, painting the room a shade of orange and feeling the room with warmth. Outside the sun is shining, and he is in here feeling like fuck. He wanted to be out there, he hated being confided to a room for longer than he needed to be.

He puts his head back down on the pillow. He closes his eyes, trying to breathe but his nose is too stuffed to breathe like a sane person. 

Footsteps outside in the hallway makes him sink back into bed and close his eyes. Before the door opens, he reaches up to clear his brow from the sticky layer of perspiration. 

With the door opening, and the clinking sound of porcelain against metal, he stirs. He opens first the left eye, then the right eye, and then closes the right eye again until he has enough focus to make out the familiar shape of his husband.

“I’ve made you some soup,” Michael says lightly, sliding a tray down onto the table by the bed. “I’m sorry I woke you, but I thought you might be hungry. I figured you would need to eat something, you’ve been a sleep since last night” Michael says laying his palm on Ryan’s forehead. Ryan wants to protest but it ends up becoming a coughing fit. Michael leans in to kiss him on his forehead but Ryan pulls away. “Don’t want to make you sick babes” he says his voice sounding croaky and raw.

Michael reaches over to get the tray of home-mad soup. Had he been able to smell the homey comfort of the soup, he would have commented about its lovely aroma or joked about not wanting to eat it because Michael had made it. But both him and Michael knew that the virus was strong enough that he had lost all sense of smell, flavor and humor. Soup sounded necessary for sustenance rather than appetizing. 

“You shouldn’t be hanging around like this,” he warned half-heartedly sinking back into the bed. “You’ll get yourself sick.”

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Michael says warmly with a slight smile, picking up the bowl, which was steaming slightly but not piping hot, Michael sat in a chair that had been moved close to the bed, right where he belonged. “Try and sit up some?”

Grumbling, Ryan pushes himself up and rest his head against the headboard. He is still so hot and sweaty, the bottom layer of clothes clinging uncomfortably. He is sure he smelled horrible. The moisture of his sweat was much different from the moisture from a swimming pool, and much less desirable. “I am not some sort of invalid, you know. I can feed myself.” Ryan says attempting at taking the spoon off Michael without much success. 

“Best you save your strength,” Michael grins cheekily. “We are still on our honeymoon remember, and besides you getting better is also in my favor” Ryan smiles.

“You’re going to regret this when you’re on the opposite end of the spoon.” Ryan says giving in to Michael.

“I don’t get sick” Michael said mixing the soup and blowing on it to cool down. Ryan just sighs, because he knows it to be true. In the ten years they’ve been together. Michael has always taken care of Ryan when he was sick or hung-over but Ryan never got the chance to do the same for Michael. 

Ryan hoped that he would get better eventually, not wanting to think about if the sickness was long and drawn out and him missing out on the best parts of their honeymoon. “Then I guess I’d better get well soon.”

“Take your time. I like you when you’re helpless.” As he spoke, Michael spoons up more broth, this time breathing at it gently, not wanting Ryan to burn himself. The purse of his lips was even, and his breath ripples over the mild balance of liquid on the spoon, knocking away a few drops. 

Ryan takes the next bite without much struggle, but he shoots Michael a particularly bothered look. After he swallows the liquid, which stings against his throat, he makes a sort of different face, breathing in before wiping his brow again. “Might I take off some of these clothes? I’m so warm.” Ryan asks pulling at his scarf around his neck. The same scarf he had used just 24 hours ago to tie Michael to the bed. He never thought it would be used for this.

“Best way to sweat out your fever, I think,” Michael murmurs as he spoons another helping of soup into Ryan’s mouth. 

Legs shifting to shed the duvet completely, Ryan decides to stop fighting all together, giving into the motherly force that was Michael Lochte-Phelps. “You don’t plan on spending the whole day here taking care of me, do you?”

Michael leans in to kiss his temple and whisper in his ear “I will gladly spend the rest of my life taking care of you Mr. Lochte-Phelps” Ryan feels a chill run down his spine, something he didn’t think was possible with a fever. 

“You’re so romantic,” he says with a soft sarcasm that would not offend Michael. After all, the Michael was being so completely wonderful. 

“I know.” Michael smiles.

It struck Ryan in that moment, aching, dizzy, annoyed, that things were going to be okay, that they promised to love one and other in sickness and in health. He smileds softly, nodding, descending into agreement. “Thank you.” His nose scrunches a bit with the effort it takes to swallow the last bite of soup. Michael’s only reply is to set away the mostly empty soup bowl and pull back the duvet completely, reaching to remove Ryan’s scarf. 

“There are more ways than one to sweat away a fever” Michael says pulling at one of Ryan's layer of clothes. 

Ryan looks up at Michael who has a wicked smile. It takes Ryan’s dizzy, aching brain a few minutes to figure out what Michael means. “What if you get sick?” Ryan says, trying to hide how much he wants Michael at that precise moment. Michael just shrugs and pulls Ryan into a kiss. He helps Ryan remove the layers of clothes he had been sleeping in.  
Michael pulls a tube of lubricant out of the draw of the bedside table and start stripping off his own cloth. Ryan is still amazed at how good Michael looks 3 years post-retiring. He just watches quietly, feeling aroused, expectant and sick all at once.

Michael crawls back on top of Ryan and gently pulls his legs apart. He caresses Ryan’s face and kisses him with reassurance. “Are you sure doggy?" he breaths. Ryan nods and pulls him in for a long lingering kiss. Michael is first to break the kiss and shifts off the bed out of Ryan’s line of sight. 

Ryan feels Michael climbs back onto the bed and hears the tube being opened and then feels a cold, slippery finger against his entrance. He bites his lip and stares right into Michael’s eyes. He can almost see his reflection in their brightness, lying naked and in love and hard.

Michael adds a second finger and Ryan moans and grips Michael’s shoulders tightly. He kisses the corner of Ryan’s mouth and coaxes his way to his tongue while scissoring his fingers inside him. Ryan lets his hands wander over Michael’s body feeling every inch of him. He rubs his fingers over Michael’s abs which provokes a small moan from Michael who adds a third finger making Ryan hips buck involuntarily. 

Michael leans in close again, very close and kisses Ryan. “Ready?” Michael whispers against Ryan’s lips.

Ryan nods frantically and clings to Michael. Evenly and carefully, Michael guides himself in, all the while his eyes fixed on Ryan’s.

Normally they didn’t go for the sappy slow love making but it was both what they needed right now, and the few times they did it, it always felt special.

A while later they are both just lying on the bed their legs and arms entwined. Michael’s breathing eased into a gentle pace but Ryan still struggling to catch his breath.

Michael brushes Ryan’s hair away from his forehead and kisses it again. “Are you okay?” Ryan nods and rests his head on Michael’s chest. “Love you” Michael whispers “Love you too” Ryan replies his breathing settling down eyes becoming heavier and heavier until he is fast asleep in his husbands embrace.


End file.
